Gifts
by v2point0
Summary: Post-D9. The art of gift making and gift giving is universal. Just a little WAFF mixed with angst.


Oh, _wow_. Looky here! My first fic to this account that _isn't_ Transformers! Fucking insane. Anyway, yes, this is my first (and hopefully not last) District 9 fanfic submission. Of course I was very nervous about posting this because I worry about being OOC, but feedback from a few good sources has given me enough confidence to share it with a little more of the world. Many things in here are very AU or made up, of course, so take nothing here as strict canon. With that said, concrit is so very welcome. Flames, on the other hand, should be redirected to **CrowTChickATaolDOTcom**. :]

Tally-ho!

**Title**: Gifts  
**Rated**: G  
**Warnings**: _Spoilers for District 9_. Nothing else really.  
**Pairing**: None (though, by default, Wikus/Tania)  
**Summary**: Post-D9. The art of gift making and gift giving is universal.  
**A/N**: To save tl;dr, Wikus's prawn speak can be imagined with a twinge of an accent. There's no cursing in here, so really no need for me to go into 'fok', lol. It feels odd reading a D9 fic and not seeing a 'fok'.  
**Disclaimer**: I own none o' this shit.

* * *

It had been three days after the transformation ran its full course.

MNU had been swamped with repairs, paperwork, legal issues as well as the deaths of many of its employees and soldiers to occupy their valuable time. Thus the move of the prawns to District 10 had been on hold. It had not been entirely business that refrained Multinational United from completing the transfer, but lingering rage and fear the aliens held for last week's massacre.

Wikus was still considered a fugitive by MNU, wanted for continued studies as well as murder. But it wasn't like they could exactly find the former MNU employee. He was now disguised as one of the enemies, a prawn as they would say, living amongst the others and hardly recognizable enough to stick out. Wikus was also very careful about where he left his tracks.

Not to say he had been entirely cautious about his existence. Wikus was painfully aware of the rumors surrounding his "disappearance". Some said he merely vanished. Others that he ran away. The chilling ones brought forth from the whispered words of MNU agents and conspiracy theorists claimed he had been slaughtered by the government, his half mutated body now resting along a cold slab of metal in the underground MNU labs for testing.

But Wikus was alive, well as he could be physically, something entirely else mentally and emotionally. Yet he was not quite ready to leave the real world, the _human_ world behind. If there was one person left who believed in him, it was his wife. Someone Wikus would give anything for, even his last breath, if it meant being in her arms again. The reality was too tragic, however, and instead he was left to sneak about like some perverted prowler when he wanted to be even near her.

Not to say he had many chances to meet with her. Wikus could not show his face to Tania, elsewise he put her in possible danger. Not only that, but Tania would not recognize him, he was sure. She was a keen, attuned girl, but with a face as hideous as this, even she'd have to turn away before giving a second thought. So once out of the three days Wikus had been living in the dump and ruins of District 9 had he had the chance to see her. He had not, however, really seen her; merely making it to her house in the undercover safety of the night to leave a present at her doorstep.

It was morning of day four as Wikus found himself sitting by his lonesome in the middle of a garbage heap. He'd become accustomed to such filth; it was everywhere. The sky above was smoggy, just as dirty from the ashes, smoke and pollution generated from the debris below. But Wikus no longer cared for that either; everyday he looked to the sky, waiting for that ship to make a surprise return, but it never came. It wouldn't come - not for a long time. Maybe never at all.

In his treasure trove of junk, food wrappers and waste products, Wikus stretched out his long legs, which were awkward to walk on at first. He had been here for hours day in and day out, using an old soggy pillow as a chair. It was starting to feel comfortable now, in a disgusting sort of way. The smell had been dampened from his senses, which he was disturbed to discover now came mainly from his antennae and feelers, oddly enough.

But this place provided Wikus with everything he needed, so he stayed.

A specifically, carefully chosen pile of treasures sat in his lap along with some materiala the MNU would consider hazardous and illegal in alien claws. With nothing better to do, what with jobs for pawns now temporarily suspended until the mess was cleaned up, Wikus tended to another personal project. Again, a gift for Tania. He suspected the move to District 10 would be upon him and "his" people soon, so this would be, sadly, the last gift. Unless Wikus found available escape routes there as well.

The previous time, Wikus had left his wife a single flower made of scrap metal. This time, it would be a bouquet. It sounded redundant, considering a flower had been his first gift. But bittersweet memories reminded him of how much Tania loved flowers. She had some planted in the backyard, tended to them like a mother would her children, always keeping freshly cut ones in vases around the house. Wikus remembered vividly one of these vases of flowers; it was a gift from his mother for Christmas two years back, heavy ivory, chiseled with angels in its pearly surface. Tania loved the vase dearly and always put her best flowers in it.

The last Wikus remembered, it was a dozen red roses. He had complained the day she had put them on their bed stand that the smell was a little too strong for his liking. The next day, he awoke with that same aroma filling his nostrils, but it wasn't so bad. His eyes, a normal pair of green back then a month ago, opened, greeted by the sight of the flowers. Tania had woken shortly before him and as usual spritzed those roses as well as all the other flowers with fresh water, making them glitter with drops like dew. It was a romantic, silly thing but Wikus had smiled anyway.

So of course whenever there was a reason to celebrate, a holiday or just a great day, Wikus brought her home flowers. Sometimes bouquets, sometimes seeds for planting, sometimes one single rose. But Tania loved them each and always made sure to treasure them.

Flowers wilted over time, eventually. By the end of that month, those roses had crinkled, turned a darker shade of blood red, their petals falling from their drooping stems and soon Tania would be forced to toss them out like yesterday's newspaper.

There was a sick sense of understanding, of relating turning in Wikus's... stomach? Perhaps Tania had done the same after knowing her husband would most likely never return. Never be who he once was. And even when (it was not a matter of if, he had to believe) he was fully human again, she was right: everything that had happened the past week, all the events, all the truth and lies he had seen, Wikus would never be the same man ever again.

Regardless.

Flowers did not grow in District 9. Maybe some of the prawns had attempted to grow some, but the soil was contaminated. So making flowers out of garbage was the next best thing.

Wikus had gathered an armful of soda cans. They provided coloration he needed for the petals. Tania loved reds, blues, and pinks. Coke cans had enough red, Pepsi had enough blue, but pink was hard to come by. It took him nearly an hour to find one half empty can of pink lemonade and another pink and red can of sparkling juice. They'd do; it was all he could find.

It would be the third blue flower of the bunch Wikus made before there came a clatter and click nearby.

The prawn-child raised his head, antennae twitching nervously. Wikus was surprised to see a child crawling cautiously up the mound and over to him. Wikus was immediately reminded of Oliver; they both had the same emaciated built, though this child was a few inches taller. It - he - wore a tattered blue life vest and stringy green pants smudged with dirt.

The prawn child peered nervously into Wikus's face. His eyes were big marbles of yellow. "Hello," he said simply.

Wikus stared a moment. "... Hello," he replied. Silence passed a minute or so as the prawn child moved closer, but kept a good comfortable distance. Wikus twitched; damn, this was awkward. The kid must have figured he was just another, normal prawn, but to the once-human, it still felt weird associating with these aliens like their kin. "What do you want?" he finally asked, though he tried not to sound agitated.

"I'm Daniel," the prawn child replied instead. "What's your name?"

That was not the answer Wikus had expected, but. "Wi... William," he lied. He pressed his question again: "What can I do you for, Daniel?"

"Oh, sorry," Daniel retorted. Clearly he had picked up the slight irritation. "My father said it's always polite to introduce yourself to a stranger before you talk about stuff." Well, wasn't that sweet and considerate. And so very human-like, too. "You make cool things," Daniel said a second later. He pointed one small digit at the half finished flower in Wikus's hands. "I saw you make the others."

"You were watching me, 'ey?"

Daniel recoiled slightly, embarrassed. He blushed. "Sorry..." he apologized lowly.

It was actually kind of cute. Wikus couldn't help but chuckle. "No problem, boy," he replied. Not like he felt threatened by the child anyway. He looked to the flower. "Yeah. I make these."

"I like them," Daniel said. His antennae perked and perhaps there was a smile behind those tentacles. There certainly were in his eyes. "Can you teach me? I want to learn how to make flowers. That is a flower, right? I've seen pictures. We don't have flowers on my planet. At least, my father said we don't. Not like yours. I don't know."

A world without flowers, huh? Wikus remembered something Tania had said. They were watching some apocalyptic science fiction movie, where Earth was a dead barren land. "A world without flowers," he repeated, almost to himself, "is a world without happiness."

The prawn child blinked. "Huh?"

Wikus shook his head. "Just ignore that. It's cheesy," he said.

Daniel nodded compliantly. "So, can you teach me?" he asked again. "I want to make cool things. Like you."

Wikus wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't like he _couldn't_. He certainly had the time and everything, but patience might be a little tricky. Still, he had one flower left. This single pink one (the sparkling punch can proved worthless), so letting the child watch seemed harmless. "Well..." he murmured. The hopeful gleam in Daniel's eyes had sealed the deal. "... I guess I could?"

Daniel sat up quickly. "Great!" he clicked.

"You're going to need a can of your ow-" Wikus was cut off when the youngling prawn held up an old can of orange soda in one of his secondary appendages. "... I guess you _have_ been watching," he muttered. Daniel shrunk back, embarrassed again, still ridiculously cute. Wikus chuckled before picking up a length of a metal rod he had found and cut down to about ten inches. A spare one, so he was fine with handing it to his pupil. "You'll need one of these. To put the petals on it. It's the, uh, stem."

Daniel took the small silver pole with no apprehension. If he had seen Wikus three days ago, he wouldn't even dare approach him. "Okay," he said and looked between it and the can. His big eyes went back to the larger prawn. "And then?"

"You want to cut up your can," Wikus explained. He was unaware that like some mechanical, unconscious reaction, he had passed his work in progress down into the smaller hand of his second set of limbs, picking up a pair of rusted scissors and another can splayed open and crushed flat like a pancake. "You're going to make petals from it, okay? Watch me."

Daniel nodded excitedly and watched closely. It was a lot harder to hold the small scissors with his pincers than it was to cut through the can. His strength made it easy to cut through the metal, as thin as it was, however. The child moved in closer to get a better look, feelers twitching, softly clicking with intrigue. Moving in graceful curves and turns, Wikus made one smooth, rounded petal before holding it up to Daniel's curious gaze. "See? You got this down right?"

"I think so," the youngling prawn replied with a nod. First thing in order was to flatten out his can. Wikus had gone to explain this but Daniel had already crushed it flat instead of splitting it smoothly open.

"Well..." Wikus tittered. "It might be rougher to cut and the petals are gonna be a bit... bumpy, but... That'll do then." He handed the scissors over to the child, who took them gleefully. The adrenaline settled itself into nervousness, fear he'd mess up, Daniel's hand shaking slightly as he sunk the blades into the can. Wikus tilted to the side, left antenna giving a quick twitch. "Not so tight, not so tight," he insisted. "You'll make them too thin then."

Daniel nodded quickly, but did as he was told. A moment later, he had produced one petal. It was jagged, but befitting of a novice as well as a child. "Is this okay?" he asked, embarrassed, holding up the orange and silver shard. Praying he'd receive the older prawn's praise.

"Yeah, it'll do," Wikus reassured. Daniel was blushing again. "Now just cut out a few more. Five or six oughta do ya."

It was quiet as Daniel went about cutting up the rest of the can, Wikus silently watching like a mentor over his student. The more petals he carved, the better they got; practice made perfect, after all. Finally, all the petals in his connected hands, he showed them to the older prawn. "How's that? Did I do all right?" he inquired, once more giddy but nervous.

"Good," Wikus agreed and nodded. The little prawn smiled. "Now..." Wikus fished a hand inside his pile before removing a bottle of glue. Another good and convenient find. His other hand fetched a scratched up poker chip. "Glue this chip here to the base of your 'stem'," he explained. He raised his flower in his third arm, tipping it so Daniel could see the base the petals had been glued to. It was a large juice bottle top, however. "You're gonna put the petals on it next."

"Okay, okay," Daniel murmured. He took both glue and poker chip, going about the process of slathering the glue on one side, before pressing it to the rod. Before he could let go, Wikus reached out and forced his hand to stay down on its top. Daniel was alarmed and flinched slightly.

"Sorry," Wikus apologized. He really didn't mean to frighten the kid. "But you got to keep pressing down. Gotta make sure the glue and chip stay in place, yeah. Wait 'til it dries, too." He removed his hand once Daniel understood, securely keeping the poker chip in place.

Wikus, in the meantime, went back to finishing his final pink flower. Daniel watched him as he smeared some glue on the tip of one petal, bending it slightly so it could stick to the bottom of the cap. Just as he laid it out, filling the final space of petals, Daniel chirped, "Why do you make these?"

Wikus blinked. "Well..." He paused. "For fun, I guess." Fun? Yeah, right. "... And, well, sometimes you make stuff like this... For people you like."

"People you like?"

"Yeah. Like... friends, family... People you... _like_..." Wikus tittered. "You give them as gifts. Flowers, that is. Not-not necessarily stuff like this."

Daniel tilted his head. "How do you know?"

"Er, uh, well..." Wikus's antennae wilted. Good going, you dolt. "Humans do it. I figure, why can't we?" _We_. He shuddered.

"Humans..." Daniel murmured. Wikus awaited some sort of slew of curses, spewing hatred and disgust. It never came, however. "That sounds nice," he said instead. "Giving them as gifts."

Wikus nodded. "I think so, too..." But it was the reactions he earned that made him happy. His antennae drooped slightly. Tania would hug him, kiss his lips chastely, say 'thank you' before running off to find a new home for her flowers. That would not happen when she got this bouquet - not for a long time, maybe. He shook his head. "Right, I think it ought to be good now."

Daniel carefully lifted his hand from the chip. He gave it a little shake, but everything remained in place. "We'll add a little more glue for extra security when we're done," Wikus stated. "Now we work on the petals. You saw what I did, yeah? Think you can do it on your own?"

Daniel nodded before taking the glue again. A few minutes went by as he applied both glue and petals to their proper places. Wikus was fanning his final petal to dry it quicker and Daniel followed suit. It was kind of cute, being mimicked like this, as if every move he made was considered right and godly. Like a child would imitate their parent.

There had been one time when Tania brought up the notion of having kids. The conversation didn't last too long. It wasn't that Wikus didn't want any, but at the time, MNU was prospering; their hands were full with the new alien arrivals. All the help they could get was needed. So the idea of having a child when it was such a busy and dangerous time seemed daunting to the both of them. Tania had been the one to finish the conversation she started. "Just some musing, that's all," she said and brushed it aside, as if she had been simply discussing tomorrow's weather. It hurt a little but Wikus didn't know what to say anyway and nodded in agreement.

Those awkward times, Wikus wanted them back.

"I think it's dried."

Daniel's voice pulled him from the abyss. Wikus looked down at the extended, jagged little orange flower Daniel held to him. It was definitely sloppy, but still recognizable. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low and prepared for disapproval. His feelers flattened against his head. "Did I do it right?"

Wikus smirked. "It looks good, kid," he reassured.

Daniel's eyes sparkled. They turned onto his flower, admiring it contentedly. "You give it to people you like, right?" he asked and Wikus nodded. "Who are you going to give yours to?"

Wikus did not answer right away. The flower turned between his awkward fingers. "... Someone I like," he chuckled, but it was tinged with tired sadness.

Daniel seemed unaware of this. "I will give mine to father," he insisted with a firm nod. He looked right into Wikus's yellow eyes. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem," Wikus replied with a careless flick of his hand. "Hope your dad likes it."

Daniel nodded again before scampering off, nearly tripping on his way down. He was so damn excited, it just made Wikus laugh. Adorable, too. A sigh finished his chuckle as he wedged the pink flower into his bouquet with the others, bound together tightly by wire and old tissue paper. So sloppy and ugly, he really hoped Tania would look beyond the appearance and remember what these flowers were.

Happiness, right? Promises of just that.

* * *

It was the day of the big move.

Wikus had nothing to gather, no supplies or belongings to take. He was nervous, terrified, uncomfortable. The MNU soldiers were herding them together like cattle, forcing them into a single file line as they forced them into the back of dozens of crowded vans. Their few belongings were thrown into a dump truck, funny enough, which would be used as transportation for that day.

Wikus's mind was occupied by dread, sadness. District 10 was far from the city and chances of seeing Tania again were slim. Still, hope lingered there somewhere.

Just as he moved sluggishly forward in the line, Wikus spotted something familiar from the corner of his eye. He looked down and was shocked to see the little orange flower Daniel had made on the ground. It was resting against one ugly tiny shack, strewn along with piles of goodies, all junk but still catchy to the eye. By the formation, Wikus knew it was a grave. The chances of the body being buried there, however, were zero. Most likely burned to ash or hauled to the lab.

The fact Daniel's flower was on the grave, however...

Wikus tapped a pincer on the shoulder of the prawn in front of him, very carefully. The prawn gave an annoyed grunt and turned, regarding Wikus with a dull glower.

"E-Excuse me, but... Whose grave is that?" Wikus inquired.

"Don't know. Don't care," the larger prawn grumbled.

A voice behind Wikus gave him the answer. He turned and looked to another prawn, this one about the same size, but thinner. The words he spoke were jumbled noises to the human ear, but to Wikus, it made sense now. It was a name. He repeated it; truthfully, he did not know this prawn. But - "Did he have a child?"

"Child, yes," the alien replied. "Moved all ready, the child." He said the deceased prawn's native name again. "Died. Shot when fighting humans in big riot. Child was not there, no; he was lucky."

Lucky, huh? Wikus felt sick, depressed. He moved back around, head hung low. His eyes met with the grave again, its single flower among the garbage. Daniel would never see his father again. He thought a moment.

Would he ever see Tania again?

Hope lingered, but so did despair.

THE END


End file.
